Sophie was now visibly shaking. She looked up at his unsympathetic face, and made a sudden dash for the door. He lunged forward and seized her around the waist, dragging her violently back into his bedroom and throwing her on the ground. His physical strength surprised her; he had a slight figure, yet had overpowered her easily.
"No, no, you aren't leaving." He said hurriedly. The boarder walked towards his chest of drawers, opened the top drawer, took a key and locked the bedroom door. Sophie sat up and began to cry. He heard her sob and turned sharply. He bit his lip and frowned. He almost felt sorry for her; she was a pathetic sight, standing there weeping..
He reached under the bed, and pulled out a small brown box, opening it to withdraw a handgun. Sophie gasped involuntarily, thinking he's going to kill me. He heard her and turned sharply, before turning back.
"Don't make this difficult," he whispered. "Get up."
Sophie didn't move. Impatiently he repeated himself and shook the gun at her, "Are you deaf?"
Sophie stood up slowly, and he took a deep breath before telling her, "Turn around."
He began lifting out his papers, piling them into his suitcase and lifted it from the bed. He pressed the gun into her back and barked, "Walk."
Sophie was shaking. She saw in the corner of her eye that he was carrying the suitcase protectively.
He marched her out of the house to her father's car. He opened the door, and waving the gun at her ordered her to get in. He got in the driver's seat and started the car, obviously having lifted the keys from the house.
Sophie sat in the seat beside him and cried softly to herself. She didn't understand what was happening, and a fear had arisen in her that the man sitting beside her was going to kill her. Communists kill people, don't they?
They drove out of town into the desert, further and further until there were no other people around. As the car ground to a halt Sophie began to panic.
"Now…" the boarder began, turning to Sophie, but she cut across him.
"Please, p-please don't kill me," she cried, tears pouring copiously from her eyes, "I won't tell anyone, I s-swear, please l-let me go home."
The boarder remained tight lipped, but said, "I have no intention of killing you, that is, unless you make this exceptionally difficult. We're going to Mexico City – I'll leave you there. That's all you need to know at the moment, I should think."
Sophie closed her mouth and further tears poured from her eyes.
"If you cooperate, I won't hurt you."
Sophie felt her panic level rising. She thought about her prospects of escape; he had a gun, and she was currently in the middle of the desert. She wouldn't get far.
Sophie nodded sadly, and he started the car again.
Eventually they pulled up outside a motel – it was getting dark. Sophie, who had been sleeping, woke up suddenly, her eyes heavy.
"Right." He began softly, "now, you'll pretend to be my girlfriend."
Sophie grimaced and turned away.
"Don't make this difficult," he warned, frowning.
Sophie sighed. He opened the door and got out and waited for her to follow.
He walked to her and seized her hand roughly, digging his nails into her, and hissed, "Smile. We're in love."
He dragged her into the motel, with his overcoat over his arm.
The woman at the desk handed them the key detachedly, suspecting nothing. When they reached the room Peterson took several minutes to open the door. Sophie began to shiver; it was bitingly cold. Finally he shoved the door open and they entered the grotty motel room. There was only one bed.